Chapter 2 — From Preparations to Transfer

After working right up until the last train, Zenjirou managed to make it to his studio apartment and went straight to his computer. Consciously ignoring the fatigue and weariness emanating from the very core of his body, he put the meat bun and bottle of tea on the left side of the desk and checked his inbox.

“Ugh... three years. 1,500,000 yen for three measly years...” he groaned, having skimmed over the email.

His grumbling was due to the reply from the domestic generator sales company. His inquiry the day before had mostly consisted of three questions:

“Is it possible to install the generator myself?”

“Can I perform the necessary maintenance on my own?”

“If so, how long is it guaranteed to work?”

The answers were:

“It is not. Installation requires an electrician’s license. Maintenance and safety is the company’s responsibility, not the purchaser’s, so please leave the installation to our professionals.”

“If you refer to the documentation you receive with the purchase, external maintenance like removal of pebbles from the water tank and keeping it moss-free is doable, but that is not covered by our warranty. If possible, we would prefer that you leave the maintenance to us as well.”

“The guaranteed lifespan is three years.”

Those heartless answers had crushed his hopes. He’d been relatively prepared for the replies about the installation and maintenance, so they didn’t affect him too badly, but the lifespan had completely thrown him for a loop.

“Three years, three measly years...” he muttered with empty eyes.

He had been prepared for that to a certain extent. Even if it had been a miraculous machine that would provide power for the rest of his life, the essential appliances—the AC and fridge themselves—had finite lifespans of about ten years. But he had predicted he would be able to detach himself from the cultural conveniences and adjust to his new life there given sufficient time. So he had been thinking of those appliances as training wheels, to get him used to living in another world.

“In ten years, I’d probably adapt to the climate there, at least. I might even be able to get a room with water going down the walls like that old Maharaja’s palaces.”

This was something else he had learned while cruising the internet. Back before refined things like air conditioning existed, there’d been a Maharaja who had possessed great wealth in India, and he had used the huge, primitive system of having water flow down a wall, through drains on the floor, to cool the room.

Zenjirou stretched both arms up towards the ceiling. In principle, the custom of uchimizu in ancient Japan was the same thing. It used the endothermic nature of evaporation to cool the room. It seemed like a viable option, even with the limited construction methods available there. But even with his basic understanding of the process, he knew the cost would be nothing to sneeze at.

The kingdom had just gotten through a long period of unrest, and Aura had said they were in the middle of rebuilding. Would she allow the breeding stud calling himself her husband to waste so much money and manpower? They were unlikely to reach that point in only three years, but such luxuries might be more acceptable after ten years or so if the country recovered well. Or at least, that was his thinking.

“No way will three years work. The battery’s the problem, huh?” he mused, looking at his computer.

The consumable parts of a hydroelectric generator were the bearing (in the turbine) and the batteries. Obviously, the batteries were practically essential for any generator to stabilize the output, and they lasted about three years.

Fortunately, since they were considered consumables, even an amateur could change them, but that didn’t mean he could simply buy a bunch of spares and be all set. It wasn’t that the manufacturer wouldn’t sell them separately, either. Hydroelectric power was a difficult enterprise in urban areas, so most buyers lived in the countryside where they couldn’t easily ask the manufacturer for servicing. That meant it wasn’t too unusual for them to buy a spare battery or two in case of some unforeseen accident, but they were just that: spares.

Batteries not in use would deteriorate far slower than those being run twenty-four seven, every day of the year, but they probably wouldn’t be at full power after three years of amateur storage. To put it simply, could you expect batteries to perform on the same level after five or even ten years? That was an easier way of looking at it.

“I guess if I take three spares, it’ll hold for a while. Man, I hope they last the full ten years. The bearing is guaranteed for ten, and it’s hard to replace so I guess I don’t need one? Well, most things only last about that long, so I might as well try some DIY repairs.”

Even if he only got to enjoy the first few years with such conveniences, he didn’t want to give up on the plan of taking some form of electricity with him.

Zenjirou had often watched TV and rented DVDs, but once he started work he was only ever able to record things and never got a chance to actually watch them, simply amassing a collection of discs burned from his recordings. He’d only seen the results of the African World Cup on the news, and had not seen any soccer from his favorite team in the J1 League or the European Championship in years.

He recorded two or three dramas with good reviews every year, and there was a show that an idol group broadcast every Sunday night at seven, but since he’d started work, they’d all come to be nothing more than unwatched archives. Not working, having all of his needs met, and just lazing around watching TV shows was an awfully unproductive use of time, but after the exhaustion from his recent work life, he could think of no greater pleasure. So much so that even that niggling voice in his head saying he would grow bored with such a life and be ashamed of himself couldn’t dissuade him.

“I mean, I can only take what fits on the carpet, and yen will be useless there. Yeah, let’s use it all!” he decided defiantly, starting to research all the appliances he wanted to take with him. “Right, I can probably manage setting up the AC if I try hard enough... Wait, but where would I set up the vents? The walls looked like super thick marble... Besides, will a normal machine even work for that freaking enormous room? Will one be enough for forty square meters?”

Once he started thinking about it calmly, it seemed there were many obstacles to bringing electronics into another world. Regardless, Zenjirou put all of his efforts into gathering information that might make his life easier for even a single second longer there.

As he searched, he ate his lukewarm meat bun and drank his tea.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆

Time flies when you’re busy.

When Zenjirou had been overwhelmed by work, he’d felt flustered and hopeless as the time seemed to slip away, but now that he was about to leave, he was grateful for how quickly the hours passed.

He left for work early, reading seinen manga on a crowded train. There were no morning briefings at the office, so once he clocked in, he headed straight for his desk and got right to it. The main focus of his work at the moment was collating all of the information so he could hand over his projects smoothly when he left.

Previously, his documents had only needed to be intelligible to Zenjirou himself, but now he needed to go through every paper and make sure that whoever stepped in could understand them. He also had to make the rounds, introducing his successors. He accompanied them to meet the clients and gave a deep bow, saying things like, “For personal reasons, I will be leaving the company. So-and-so here will be working with you in the future. Please treat them as you treated me...” and so on.

In between this and his usual duties, he continued to make the handbook for the new hires. Even chipping away at the mountain of work right up until the last train of the evening wasn’t enough, so he’d been turning up early to work overtime. However, he never stayed overnight. It was all to eke out even a little extra money for his trip.

In the past, when he missed the last train, he would stay over in a nearby hotel, but he had to temporarily pay for it out of pocket. If he submitted the receipts to the accounting department, he would be reimbursed in the following month’s paycheck, so it wasn’t usually a problem. But it certainly was this time. After all, he’d be departing for another world before he got his final check, so even if they paid him back, it would go to waste. To avoid that, he decided to work overtime until just before the last train left and then continue working from the first train back the next morning.

It was worth it.

It had been three weeks since he’d tendered his resignation. He had been getting about four hours of sleep on average, and could now comfortably resign.

“Well, Chief, this is it. Thank you for everything,” Zenjirou said, bidding a final farewell to his overweight boss.

“Yeah, be healthy,” was the man’s only reply. He stood and looked Zenjirou in the eye for a brief moment before sitting straight back down and returning to work like nothing had happened.

It was extremely blunt and might make others think that his boss hated him, but he understood how hard the guy was working and sympathized. Like most small- to medium-sized companies, the section chief wasn’t strictly a managerial role. He was responsible for managing his subordinates, but he had even more to do than they did, and was a true contributing part of the workforce. While he may have technically been part of the management, he lost the option for overtime pay in exchange for that slight increase in wages. People in his position were usually called “chiefs in name only” and were subject to inspections.

This chief, however, had too much work, so in addition to his managerial duties, he had to do the same amount of regular work as his subordinates. It was a dark gray area; something that would be picked up on during an audit but was otherwise overlooked.

All Zenjirou could do was give the most respectful bow he could muster as his boss nobly faced his pile of responsibilities, still neck-deep in work even as Zenjirou himself was about to escape that hell.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆

After leaving for the last time, Zenjirou took his hybrid and drove for several hours, eventually reaching the village where he’d been born.

“Ugh... Ahh...!” he groaned, rolling the aches and pains from his stiff shoulders and neck as he climbed out of the car, dusk closing in.

The parking space that he rented near home was farther away than his usual convenience store and supermarket, so Zenjirou usually just rode his bicycle around the neighborhood or took the train to work. This was the first long drive that he’d taken in some time.

He lingered in the growing darkness and looked up at the two-story house, his gaze softening slightly. “It’s just the same as ever around here.”

The house was his uncle’s family’s place, and Zenjirou had come to consider it “home” after losing his parents during middle school.

“Right, let’s go, then,” he said, psyching himself up to overcome the awkwardness of having been away from home for so long as he pressed the bell.

“It’s been a while, Zenjirou. I’m glad you’re keeping well,” Yamai Tadashi said. Zenjirou’s uncle was exactly the same as he remembered: glasses, and a kind smile on his slender face as he welcomed his late brother’s son.

The family consisted of four people: his aunt and uncle, their daughter, who was in her third year of high school, and their son, who was three years younger and in his third year of middle school. The daughter attended a high school that was a fair distance away, so she boarded there, and the gathering around the table currently consisted of his aunt, uncle, and younger cousin. Though only four people lived there now, there were five seats at the table.

The fifth seat was Zenjirou’s. He had only lived there for a year and a half, from the time his parents passed away—during the summer of his second year of middle school—until he had entered the high school dorms. Yet his aunt and uncle still kept a seat at the table for him.

“Now then, let’s leave the catching up for later. Dinner first, dear,” urged his aunt, stepping into the room with a steaming pot.

She looked like the stereotypical “hard-working countrywoman,” and bade him sit when he tried to help, laying out the dinner with such efficiency that he couldn’t have offered much assistance anyway. When finished, she removed her apron and sat down in her own seat.

“Well then, dear,” she prompted her husband.

“Yes, let’s eat,” Tadashi agreed with a small nod, signaling the start of the meal.

The other three echoed the call and began their dinners.

As would be expected, almost all of the conversation that evening focused on Zenjirou.

“So, you’ve decided to go abroad?” his uncle asked, his glasses fogging up with steam from the food.

“Yes, I’m planning to leave in a little over a week. Sorry for the rush,” he answered with a bow, swallowing his aunt’s handmade pickled cabbage. He still had his chopsticks and teacup in his hands as he bowed.

His uncle gave a familiar, kind smile as he answered, “No, it’s fine. As long as you’re happy. Just remember that this is your home too, and you’ve always got somewhere to come back to.”

Tadashi’s gaze was warm as he looked at his nephew. He didn’t know, of course, that Zenjirou’s destination wasn’t a foreign country, but a foreign world.

“Ah, right, thank you,” Zenjirou managed. He couldn’t help but feel bad in the face of his uncle’s kindness, hiding as he was that he wouldn’t even be able to send a letter for at least thirty years once he left. He somewhat forcefully changed the topic, wanting to escape the guilt and avoid any issues with his claims coming to light. “Yes. I’m not sure exactly how long I’ll be away, but I won’t be back in Japan for a while. So I want to sign the car over to you, uncle, and let you have it.”

Tadashi frowned for the first time that night. “You know you don’t need to do that, right?”

Zenjirou had expected that answer from his good-natured uncle. He put his chopsticks down and waved a hand dismissively. “It’s not that... I just don’t want to scrap it. I’ll probably be gone long enough for my license to lapse, let alone make the next inspection,” he insisted.

Even hearing that, Tadashi was hesitant to accept. “Hmm, right. Why not sell it then?” he suggested, always trying to make things even a little better for his nephew.

Zenjirou realized once again just how caring his uncle was as he unconsciously continued to persuade him. “Nah, I can’t. I’ll be gone in ten days, so I won’t even have time to get a valuation.”

“I don’t mind selling it for you and putting the money into your account, then. You can withdraw it from abroad nowadays, right? And if not, you can always use it when you get back.”

Apparently, he was even more thoughtful than Zenjirou had realized, going above and beyond to avoid depriving him of any benefits to maintaining possession of his car. Despite being aware of this kindness, Zenjirou was abandoning his life here and getting married in another world for reasons that made him feel somewhat pathetic.

“No, I mean, it’d be second hand so it wouldn’t fetch much, and I figure it’ll be of more use here,” he said, somewhat stubbornly pushing the car onto his uncle to suppress his guilt.

Realizing how serious his nephew was being, Tadashi tried a different tack. “Hmm, but I already have a car, and a pickup, too,” he countered.

A car was essential in the countryside. Farmers also often had a pickup truck, which could be driven on a standard car license and was necessary for moving larger quantities of their products. There certainly wasn’t much benefit to owning yet another car at this point.

Zenjirou had expected that answer as well, though, and continued. “Right, but what about it being in your name and Sanae using it? She’s going to university next year, isn’t she? She can come back more often if she has a car.”

Sanae was the name of his eldest cousin. The suggestion prompted his uncle’s first pained smile of the day. “That might be true. And it’s convincing coming from you.”

There was a hint of recrimination in his statement. When Zenjirou was at university, he’d often given somewhat vague answers to his uncle’s calls asking him to pop around once in a while, and hadn’t been back once in four years.

“S-Sorry about that. But her first choice is in this prefecture, isn’t it? I think it’s different, then. It’ll make a big difference.”

“Well, that does make sense. But I don’t know; cars are dangerous.”

“So, Sis is gonna use Zen’s car? Do you think she’ll take me to Iida?” asked the son, breaking the silence after poking at his food for a bit. His father remained unsure.

“Come on, Yuusaku. We haven’t decided yet, so don’t butt in. Besides, Sanae won’t have her license until next year, and you’ll be in the dorms at high school then,” he gently rebuked him, a slight frown on his face as the boy’s eyes shone with excitement.

Of course, those words didn’t make the energetic middle-schooler falter. “But... but... we’ll both be back for the summer, right? I can ask her then, yeah?” he asked, clearly already assuming that Zenjirou’s car would become Sanae’s, or rather, the family’s.

It wasn’t uncommon for a high-schooler to not want their sister to take them anywhere, even the shopping district, but it seemed the two siblings still got on well. A heartfelt smile made its way onto Zenjirou’s face at the insight into their family dynamics. He took a drink from the tea brewed by his aunt, and spoke to his younger cousin.

“I guess, if Sanae agrees. Why not ask her when she’s back?”

“Yeah, I’ll text her. Thanks for the food!”

“Hey, wait,” Tadashi said, but he didn’t have time to stop him. Yuusaku quickly piled all his tableware together and took it into the kitchen before clattering off upstairs. He was probably going to text his sister right away.

“Yuusaku!” Tadashi yelled as he started to stand despite being in the middle of eating.

“C’mon, Uncle,” Zenjirou cut in. “Yuusaku’s excited about it, so why not just take it off my hands?”

Still, Tadashi seemed hesitant to accept his nephew’s offer and fell into a troubled silence.

“Why not, dear?” came the final push from his aunt, who had been watching their exchange silently until then. “Zenjirou’s already grown into a fine man. If you keep refusing his generous offer, it’s like you’re treating him as a child. Don’t you think that’s impolite?”

“I... see. Yes... you’re right,” his uncle gave in, accepting his wife’s advice and turning to his nephew with a calm expression. “Zenjirou.”

“Yes?”

“I’ll take you up on it, then. Thanks. I’ll tell Sanae to treat it well,” he said with a slight bow.

“Right. I’m sorry it’s a used car, but it’s a thank you for all your help over the years, so treat it like your own,” Zenjirou replied as a relieved smile made its way to his lips and he returned the bow.

After finishing dinner, Zenjirou went to bed. He’d once lived in the room for a year and a half, and it hadn’t changed at all since then. There was a desk in the corner, a chest of drawers next to it, and atop that was an old-fashioned radio that only played CDs.

The futon he’d laid out was the same as the one he had used back then as well.

“I guess this room’ll always be mine, however many years pass...” he muttered to himself as he sat cross-legged on the futon in his light blue pajamas, fiddling with his phone in one hand.

He’d never disliked his uncle, aunt, or cousins as they helped him through middle school, high school, and then university, but they still weren’t “family” to him, just “relatives.” “Relatives” that he was as close to as family, who had helped him immensely, but that might not be how his uncle saw it.

“Man, guess I’ve got to pay them back at least a bit,” he said, uncrossing his legs and flopping onto the mattress.

They’d kept the room ready and waiting so that he could come home any time, even though he’d already grown up and left. It was one of the luxuries allowed by the bigger houses in the countryside, but he couldn’t ignore that it was simply another example of the family’s kindness to him.

Zenjirou looked up at the ring-shaped fluorescent tube that lit the room and let out a sigh. As he did, the scent of insect repellent from the futon tickled his nose. It was strangely comforting to him. His futon didn’t smell of him anymore, though, which was enough to act as proof that the room wasn’t really his to come back to now.

“Either way, I guess I’m bidding the world farewell in ten days,” he thought, still sprawled face up on the bed as he flipped his phone open to check the date.

Upon leaving his apartment he had canceled all of his utilities, including the landline, gas, electricity, water, and so on, but had arranged for his phone to be canceled only at the end of the month. It was paid straight from his bank account, where his final paycheck would be going next month, even after he was gone, so it would be covered without a problem. He felt it made more sense to keep using the phone up until the last moment, seeing as he could use it anywhere.

“It’s too late for regrets at this point...” He had agreed to be resummoned by Queen Aura in ten days. Even if he changed his mind now, there was no way for him to convey it to her, so it was already settled. “And she said that repeated summonings and unsummonings so close together were an exception last time.”

In ten days, once he was summoned back to the other world, the next chance he would have to return home would be in thirty years. It was a significant length of time, and he needed to be prepared to die there.

“And I am prepared for that... or I should be.”

Zenjirou put his phone next to his pillow and picked up a blue velvet box that was about the size of his palm. Inside it was a pair of rings. The golden bands had three colorless diamonds embedded within them. They weren’t as ostentatious as rings with protruding gems, but the wide bands had precise geometric designs cut around them, and the luster of the three diamonds in each were enough to charm anyone who saw them.

“Aura...” he murmured, thinking of the queen awaiting him. As he did, his attachment to this world, which had been strengthening since he’d met his relatives, finally started to fade. “It really was love at first sight... I guess.”

He still had some reservations, but sorted through those thoughts and sat up on the bed to turn the light off.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆

The next day, after gratefully eating breakfast made by his aunt, he took off in his car and drove for about thirty minutes into the mountains, to a rundown hut.

He stopped his car on the mountain pass. The road was a bumpy path, covered in weeds apart from where tire tracks had flattened them. He climbed out of the car and was taken aback by the view of the hut.

“Whoa! I haven’t been here since elementary school. I don’t remember it being this small!” he exclaimed.

The hut was a tiny thing that barely kept out the wind and rain. It, and the surrounding land, belonged to Zenjirou.

When he had graduated and decided to find work near the capital, he’d essentially foisted the house and fields he’d inherited from his parents onto his uncle. Tadashi had already been looking after them anyway, but he’d refused to take ownership of the hut and its grounds. It was, after all, where the Yamai family history had started, he’d said.

The building now standing before him had a sheet metal roof, so it had probably been rebuilt since the Shōwa Era, but it was still a battered old shack.

“I wondered when she first told me the story if they had come here because they’d been ostracized. If Aura was right, that might be pretty spot on,” he murmured sentimentally as he looked at the hut bathed in morning sunlight.

If Aura’s assumptions were correct, then his ancestors, the forebears of the Yamai family, had come from another world. They had arrived here one hundred and fifty years ago after eloping.

A couple with what looked like a mix of Latino and South Asian features would have surely been conspicuous. They may well have had a difficult time of it until they could live peacefully away from others in this little hut.

“Well, there’s no folklore like that passed down through the generations in the village, so I guess they must have integrated pretty well,” he said, pulling his thoughts in a more positive direction from their current grave trajectory.

In such a small village, you’d normally still hear whispers about avoiding such a family, even after a century and a half, and he’d never heard of anything like that. There was a significant possibility that his current musings were correct.

As those thoughts were passing through his mind, Zenjirou heard the sound of a heavy diesel engine from down the weedy road.

“Oh, that must be them.”

He saw the truck through the trees and decided that he had better make space for them to pull in, so he quickly got into his car and moved it.

A few minutes later, the truck had stopped and several men wearing gray overalls climbed out.

“Sorry we’re late. We’re from Technotek’s construction and sales department. I assume you are Mr. Yamai, the one who ordered the micro-hydroelectric generator?” the oldest of the three asked as they stood in front of the ramshackle hut.

“Yes, that’s me. Thanks for coming out today.”

“And thank you for the business,” the middle-aged man replied with a smile. “We completed the preliminary survey a few days ago, so we should be able to start the installation right away. But we’d like to confirm the requirements one more time, just in case. You want the generator set up in that river so you can have power in the building behind you, correct?”

“Yes, that’s right,” he replied. What he actually wanted was to be able to use it in a palace in another world, but there was no way he could tell them that. “But,” he added, “I’m pretty far out in the country here and would like to be able to carry out the bare minimum of maintenance myself. Apologies if this is rude, but would it be possible to record it being installed?”

The engineer’s lips twisted. “Hmm, I don’t mind you recording, but maintenance, huh? Well, you should be able to empty the tanks of sand and clean the filters, but I don’t think you should interfere too much with the generator itself.”

“Of course, I just want to do what I can as an amateur,” he lied.

“Okay, you can go ahead and record us, then,” the engineer agreed.

“Thank you; please let me know if I get in your way,” Zenjirou returned with a smile, going back to his car to pick up the Handycam he had borrowed from his uncle.

“Whoa... It’s way harder than I thought. I might have underestimated things a bit...” Zenjirou muttered tiredly after several hours of recording.

The work had started at 10 AM and still hadn’t finished by the afternoon. With three specialists taking so long, just how hard would it be for him to replicate the setup over there on his own?

“I might have jumped the gun a bit here...”

There was no shame in regretting his earlier decision. Apparently, the “simple setup” touted on the product page meant “provided you’re a specialist.”

The small generator had three main components. The first was a water tank to remove larger solids, to stabilize the water supply. Another was the generator itself, containing a large magnet and turbine, the core of the system. The last one centered around a replaceable battery that was part of a control system that stabilized the output.

The tank was installed upstream with a thick hose-like intake for water from the river to fill the tank. To get the greatest possible differential pressure in the water, the generator itself was placed at a much lower altitude.

The tank and generator were then connected by a long, thin hose with high durability and the water filtered by the tank flowed on to the generator. That water made the turbine spin in the generator and then left through the drain, ejected downstream.

The control system was installed in the hut. They drilled a hole through the walls and passed a cable that connected the system to the generator, letting the electricity created flow straight to the control system.

The control system itself incorporated two large batteries, and thanks to those batteries it was able to regulate, to a significant degree, the fluctuations in output that were characteristic of small generators.

Ordinarily, the control system would feed the electricity to the home’s distribution board, but the battered old hut had no such thing. Because of that, he’d paid extra to have the control system fitted with several sockets so that he could power appliances directly from it. If he plugged the devices straight into those sockets, he could use a TV, computer, or fridge without issue.

“Wait a moment,” said the lead engineer. He headed back to the truck and retrieved an old standing lamp, used as a final confirmation that the generator was working. “Right, let’s get her running!” he called to his team from inside the hut, through the propped-open door.

The two younger engineers called back their confirmations after running final checks on both pieces of equipment and spinning their arms to show that all was well.

“The tank’s fine!”

“No problems with the generator!”

The machine ground to life. The turbine spun, producing electricity, which was then immediately directed to the control system in the hut.

From the sound of it, a fan had started up somewhere in the oblong device, and a light on the upper-right shone green to indicate that it was functioning normally.

“Right, let’s go, then,” said the senior engineer upon seeing the green light. He stood the lamp on the floor and plugged it into one of the sockets on the control panel. Then, he flicked the lamp’s switch. The bulb glowed brightly in the gloom of the hut.

“Whoa!” Zenjirou exclaimed in admiration.

“Looks like there are no problems,” the engineer said, smiling in accomplishment as he wiped the sweat from his brow with a towel that hung around his neck.

About an hour later, the truck from Technotek had left and Zenjirou was alone in the shabby hut, in front of the newly-installed control system.

“Right, that’s the biggest problem sorted,” he murmured.

The Handycam was currently charging from it, the indicator light on the camera glowing to show him that it was working just fine.

He peered at the control panel, the documentation the engineers had left gripped in one hand. “Okay, so this red light is an emergency lamp, and this number is how much power is currently being generated. That should be enough to run all the stuff I would use in an apartment. But even if I can set it up over there, there’s no guarantee it’ll generate the same amount of energy.”

The documents had a table of common ratings for household appliances. You could use it to tell at a glance roughly how much power would be needed to use any type of domestic electronic device.

The maximum output for Zenjirou’s generator was one kilowatt. That would be enough for a family of four or five to live on, let alone one person in a single room, but it was, in the end, nothing more than a theory. The gauge currently displayed a little over six hundred watts. Assuming he took it to the other world and got it working, it was highly unlikely that he’d manage to achieve better results than when it was installed by professionals.

“So, that means I’ll be limited to whatever I can run simultaneously,” he mused, glaring at the exposed beams in the ceiling. “Shall I get the stuff out of storage and try it out? See how much it’ll handle?”

And that’s what he decided to do.

Either way, with the generator set up at the hut, it was likely that he’d have to depart from there. On his last day, he would stop the power and generator, get it all out and put it on the carpet. But the generator itself weighed 75 kilos.

With a cart, he could get it into his car, but it would be more efficient to just spread out the magic carpet and leave right from the hut. It would be difficult to get the generator from the riverbed into the rundown house, but not impossible.

“I’ll need to bring everything here anyway, so I might as well do it now.”

When he’d moved out, he’d put the things he was bringing with him into storage and gotten rid of the rest. All he had brought to the village was some hand luggage, clothing, the wedding rings, and the magic carpet. If he got in touch with the movers quickly and had everything transferred to the hut, he’d be able to get it all done without a rush.

He could also have a bit of fun testing out how many devices could be powered from the generator at once, simulating what he would need for a life away from civilization.

“I’ve still got a few days’ leeway, so if I think of anything else I need, I can get it from the home center in the nearest town. I’ll need to check how much money I’ve got left, too.”

He may have called it “near” but the closest town was actually over two hours away, so he’d have to keep the trips back and forth to a minimum. He’d actually planned to help out his family with the farming until he left, but he’d just have to do half days instead of full ones. He was a grown man, so even if it was only for a few days, he wouldn’t sit around doing nothing while they fed and housed him, but he did have his own timetable to consider.

“Right, better make the call straight away. Okay... wait, there’s no signal out here? Man, I won’t even be able to use my phone until I get onto the main roads.”

His plans set, Zenjirou climbed aboard his now dusty, muddy silver car so that he could go call the movers and the storage facility.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆

The time to prepare had passed by in a flash. It had been exactly one month since his promise to Aura.

The shoddy metal structure was all but lost in the morning mist. Within, Zenjirou sat on the center of the carpet, which was covered in magical symbols, waiting for the moment to come. The sight inside the hut could be called nothing but “bizarre.”

He was dressed sharply, wearing a gray suit, with a huge mountain climber’s rucksack on his back. That was plenty odd in and of itself, but his right hand also held a box cutter with a bare blade, its point jabbed into his left pinky finger. “Odd” was a rather generous way of putting it.

“Any time now, yeah? No, maybe not... Maybe it was all a dream? No, no way, I’ve got the carpet and ring... But what if something unexpected happened and they canceled the summoning?”

He poked at the wound on his finger periodically, so that blood kept dripping gently onto the carpet as his worries rushed over him.

He had already made his preparations to leave. He’d quit his job, canceled his utilities, and moved out of his apartment. He could still use his mobile, but he’d already arranged for it to be cut off at the end of the month. He had lied to his last remaining relatives, telling them that he was going abroad for a career change. He’d even changed his residence certificate to be registered in his birth village rather than where he worked.

He had left his bank and postal accounts as they were, and would receive his final paycheck on the tenth of next month. He wouldn’t be able to use that money, of course. At least, he shouldn’t be. He would have real problems if he was still around by then.

With all these preparations in place, Zenjirou would be left adrift with an essentially worthless generator and a stupidly long extension cord if he ended up staying there. Frankly, he would be in a pretty tough spot if he wasn’t summoned after all.

“Crap, my head’s spinning. Did I lose too much blood?” he muttered, feeling his vision dimming. That was impossible, though; the amount of blood that he’d lost wasn’t a tenth of what they would take for a blood test at the hospital. The narrowing of his vision and his dizziness must all be in his head.

It was already early summer, but being by a river in the mountains meant that mornings still had rather low temperatures.

“I’m freezing...” he murmured. He didn’t know whether it was the nerves or the chill in the air that was making him shiver. “Have I forgotten anything? The generator... I’ve got the tank, the turbine, the control system. I’ve got the intake and drain hoses too. Right, got it all.”

He went again through all the parts of the most precious cargo he had—the micro-hydroelectric generator—to calm those nerves.

He had spent the entire day prior lugging them all onto the carpet with great effort. Moving the generator itself in particular was no small task. He wanted someone to praise him for it. He’d bought a cart at the home center just for that purpose, and he would never have managed without it.

The engineers had pounded wooden stakes into the leveled ground at the riverside to fix the rectangular machine in place. He’d had to painstakingly remove each of them and slip the cart underneath it. By the time he had managed that, his clothes had been soaked through, even the T-shirt and boxers he was wearing beneath his blue tracksuit.

His efforts were worth it, though, and he now had the whole generator arranged on top of the carpet. It was the biggest item he was taking after the five-compartment fridge.

“The only thing I ended up buying her other than the ring was booze. I guess that’s okay, though? She did seem to have a liking for drink, at least.”

An upper corner of the carpet was taken up by bottles of whiskey, brandy, and some sake and wine to top it off. His drink of choice was usually low-malt beer, cheaper (due to tax laws) as it was, or on very rare occasions, a bottle of 1,500-yen whiskey. A container costing ten or twenty thousand was absurd to him, but it was a gift for a queen, so he needed to be willing to splurge a bit.

Speaking of alcohol, Zenjirou seemed to remember that the drinks he’d been served there were mostly low-percentage, just weak fruit liquors. So he’d hurriedly bought a domestic still, although he hadn’t attempted to actually make spirits with it yet. He figured it would be a good bargain if it worked. Either way, he’d bought familiar low-malt beer and local whiskeys by the crate, so it should be enough to last them a while.

He turned his gaze to his clothing. “This works... yeah. I mean, even if not, it’s the best I have.”

The gray suit that he was wearing was the most expensive of all his clothes. You could call them his “Sunday best.” He was heading off to get married. There might be cultural differences, and she might be from another world, but he wanted to dress appropriately for the occasion, to the best of his ability.

He’d thought about getting a white suit like the bridegroom would wear at a reception, but had given up after seeing their ridiculous prices. It was more than anyone should spend on a set of clothing they would only wear once. The most that Zenjirou could do with his limited funds was pick out the best attire he already had and use that.

While thinking about his outfit, he realized that the belt on the rucksack was creasing his suit. “Ah, crap. Will I even be able to straighten it over there? I’m not brave enough to leave it behind, though. Guess I’ll just make do.”

The bag on his back contained a set of clothes along with sturdy walking boots. He also had rechargeable AA batteries and a solar charger for them. Besides that, he had hardtack, chocolate chip cookies, marbled chocolate, plastic water bottles, lighters, and multitools by the dozen, a hand-cranked LED flashlight, a thermal blanket, and so on. Essentially, an emergency kit that he could keep on hand.

Considering the possibility that something could go wrong with the summoning, or that the carpet might not work properly, leaving him with only what he had on his back, he refused to put the rucksack down even if it did crease his suit.

Of course, the most precious possession he was taking was, in a sense, the wedding ring for Aura. It was in his jacket pocket, within its box.

He suddenly felt the need to check on the ring again. Unfortunately, his right hand was currently occupied with the knife, and his left had blood dripping from the pinky. He was considering putting the knife down and looking through his pockets when it happened.

“Guh...?!”

He was assailed by a familiar sense of vertigo as he sat there on the carpet. He’d dropped the knife immediately and was holding himself up with both hands when there was a bang to his right and the voice of a woman he hadn’t heard in a month came to his ears.

“Welcome, my groom. I am pleased to see that the second summoning seems to have gone well. I can now greet you in the true sense of the word. Welcome to this world, and to our country. Be at home here, my lifelong partner.”

“Aura, ma’am...”

Everything had made the transfer successfully, carpet and all. Zenjirou forgot to even stand, looking up at the queen rather dopily, his hands on his knees as she spread her own arms in welcome.